Wolverine vs Alien vs Predator
by Habish8987
Summary: When a Predator ship crashes on Earth, Wolverine faces the xenomorphs and the Predators. He must ally with a sworn enemy to stay alive.
1. Chapter 1

It was past midnight. Every person in the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was fast asleep, except for one brawny man with wild hair. 

Logan stepped quietly down the stairs, occasionally glancing to the left or right. He didn't want to wake anyone. He was not good at goodbyes. A battered leather rucksack hung from his left shoulder, packed with only the essentials: A spare change of clothes, a pack of matches, and several bottles of whiskey. Logan wasn't bringing any food. He'd catch his own in the forest. As Logan made his way into the garage he absentmindedly rubbed the flesh between his knuckles.

Scott's motorcycle was right where it always was. Recently waxed, the bike glistened in the faint garage lights. Logan smiled. Scott hated it when Logan borrowed his bike without asking, thus Logan borrowed Scott's bike without asking. Logan mounted the motorcycle. A shiny blue helmet hung from the tilted handlebars of the bike. Logan shoved it off and it fell to the floor with a dull clunk. If there was one thing Logan did not need, it was a helmet. He had one custom built right into his skull.

Logan gunned the engine and rocketed out of the garage.

Logan pushed the bike to its limit. He was rocketing around curves and zooming down the roads at over 125mph. No normal person could go that fast on a motorcycle around such curves and live to talk about it. But then, Logan wasn't normal. His mutant abilities gave him heightened senses and reflexes. And he wasn't afraid to fall. Fear is crippling, but Logan crippled fear.

After hours of high speed driving, Logan arrived at his destination. His already feral-looking hair was even wilder. He propped the bike up on its kickstand and faced the edge of the woods. He'd leave the bike where it was. The high tech security system installed in it would keep any would-be-thieves away from it.

Logan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scents of the forest came rushing at him. Logan could smell a group of campers several miles away, four men and a bloodhound. Hunters. There was another scent…something…Logan couldn't place it.

He opened his eyes. The sun was not yet rising, but the night was brighter. Logan hung his rucksack across his chest and stepped past the first trees. It was darker under the cover of the trees. The forest was silent. The only noises were the crunching of twigs and dry leaves beneath Logan's boots.

He had no particular destination. He just wanted to be alone. Logan felt that he was wearing the nerves of everyone at the mansion thin, and had decided to take a trip into the wilderness. He'd actually come to the decision earlier that very night while lying awake in his bed. He knew some people would be worried. Logan hoped Jean would miss him, although he buried that thought. No doubt the Professor would find him with cerebro and put everyone's minds at ease.

The first rays of sunshine began breaking through the canopy of leaves and branches overhead. Birds began to chirp merry songs and Logan saw squirrels scurrying up and down tree trunks. But as he was walking, Logan noticed that the birds became gradually silent and the squirrels stood still, ears pricked up, listening to something. Logan stopped walking and glanced around. His nostrils twitched, sniffing the air. Logan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What the hell? He barely had time to contemplate the origins of this strange scent before he was deafened by a shockwave and slammed into a tree. Darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

"There he is." Drake Sanders whispered, shouldering his rifle. Hidden in a cluster of bushes, he was invisible to the oblivious deer. It was just standing in a small clearing practically asking to have a bullet put through it. Drake lined up the shot. The deer suddenly went rigid, head up in the air, ears perked. It bolted before Drake could pull the trigger. "Damn it!"

Drake stood up and spat. He was a large man, his flannel shirt barely containing his plump belly. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead. He wondered what had spooked the deer as he lit up a cigarette. He only smoked on these camping trips where his wife couldn't bitch about it. God, was he glad to get away from her for a few days. He happened to glance up at the sky and glimpse what looked like a huge, spiraling, metal croissant. "My God..." Drake said limply just before the craft disappeared below the horizon where sky met tree. The cigarette fell from his mouth. With a deafening WHAM he was blown backward off his feet and hit his head on a low branch.

Drake came back to consciousness slowly. He saw three blurry shapes standing above him, talking excitedly. As Drake opened his mouth to speak, he felt the excruciating pain in his head and moaned.

"Hey, he's awake. Drake, bud, I think you've got a concussion. Did you see that thing?" Drake groggily stood up, the world still a haze. He could smell something though, smelled like smoke.

"We have to check it out, man. We have to."

Drake recognized his friend's voices. Chuck, Brady, and Chris were all looking in the direction of the crash, practically ignoring Drake.

"I'm fine, thanks. What the hell happened?"

Brady whooped excitedly. "Didn't you see it, Tubby? The fuckin' UFO! Like in Close Encounters! Holy Mother 'o God!"

Chuck clapped Chris on the back. "We have to go check it out, right?" 

Chris nodded. "We sure do, Mulder. Come on, Scully! Get up!" He nudged Drake with his foot. 

With much effort and sweat, Drake managed to get to his feet. His shirt had been torn open and his hat was gone. Christ, he'd sunburn for sure.

Minutes later he was struggling to keep up with his friends as they hurried through the woods to the where they presumed the strange craft to have crashed. His head was still in pain, but he was at least able to function without any help. It hurt to talk, so he just listened as his friends jabbered on about aliens and UFO's.

Through the trees directly ahead of the group they could see a fire burning and smoke billowing up into the air. All four gripped their guns a little tighter.

Chuck approached the wall of black smoke. He glanced back at the other three, grinned, and walked into the smoke.

"Holy…hey guys, you gotta see this! This is some fuckin' Twilight Zone shit! There's-" Chuck enthusiasm was cut off by his own muffled scream and three quick shots from his rifle. Then, silence. Brady and Chris charged through the trees and smoke, over small patches of fire. They screamed Chuck's name. Drake stood still, petrified. He heard his friends calling for Chuck and then their own terrified shrieks. Guns went off. He heard his best friends moaning for their mothers.

It was like a nightmare...in fact...yes! He must still be unconscious! This was just a hallucination. Of course.

Drake was trembling and on his way to his knees when something shaped like a huge spider shot out from the smoke and latched itself onto his face. A terrifying sense of claustrophobia set in. Drake was aware of being smothered and he felt something worming its way down his throat. He thrashed around wildly before he fell to ground, unconscious, victim to the same fate as his friends. 


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Logan came to all the wounds and bruises he had suffered were fully healed. "What the hell…" He said, standing up. Logan looked around for his rucksack and found it several feet away. When he picked it up he heard broken glass shifting and saw a clear liquid soaking the rucksack. So much for the whiskey. The clothes would have been soaked with alcohol by now, useless. Logan tossed the sack away. He'd lived with less before. Now, to find out what happened to him… 

Trees had fallen down in the shockwave and lay strewn everywhere. Logan trampled over the broken plant life easily, snapping branches that protruded to block his path.

Logan sensed something strange, something he'd never come across before. He went toward the scent.

The forest was eerily silent. The dead bodies of squirrels and birds covered the ground, their frail bodies broken by the shockwave. Logan took care to not step on them, but there were so many it was nearly impossible not to.

Gradually, as he went along, the scent became stronger. He soon sensed that there were people nearby, people and blood. Logan picked up the pace, his sense of urgency rising. Whatever had happened, the source of it was very close. Smoke. Fire. He ran right through a billowing wall of smoke. On the other side was something the likes of which he had never seen.

A huge ship of some kind was half-buried in the ground. It jutted up about twenty feet into the air. Smoke poured from it. Dozens of small fires were scattered around the crash site. Logan could not see any signs of life, human or otherwise. From the looks of the ship, it hadn't been built on Earth.

Logan sniffed the air as he carefully navigated his way through the wreckage. Something was nearby, something...alien. His mutant sense of hearing detected extremely light footsteps behind him.

SNIKT!

Wolverine popped his claws and spun around. He roared and buried his right set of claws into the belly of...nothing. Flourescent green blood poured out of the thin air, as if he had stabbed a ghost. Wolverine could feel something there but couldn't see it. He didn't give a damn what it was. He dragged his claws up, felt the resistance of bone, cut through it.

Electricity crackled and slowly the dying creature became visible. It must have had a cloaking device of some kind. The thing looked roughly human, but way too big and way too invisible. It wore a strange mask. Wolverine ripped his claws from the monsters chest. It fell dead. A pool of neon blood formed around the nine-foot corpse. It must have been one of the ship's occupants.

Logan heard something else, from above. He looked up. A black helicopter was approaching the crash site. Logan could smell...no...couldn't be...

An old foe.


	4. Chapter 4

A sleek black helicopter soared toward the crash site, codenamed 'Landscape' by the higher echelons of power in the USA. The helicopter was unmarked and silent. It was weaponless in order to cut back on weight and it was undetectable on any form of radar. And, according to military, it did not exist. The chopper was designed to make quick undetected drops in enemy territory, and to extract soldiers just as quickly. 

In the cargo hold sat four men. Three were armed to the teeth with various knives and small guns, and each clutched an M16. The fourth was a beast of man. He sat calmly against the cold metal interior wall of the chopper. Unlike the rest of his group he carried no weapons and he wore no body armor. Hairy muscled arms lay crossed across his broad chest.

The three other men all sat opposite him, wary of his reputation as a psychotic murderer. Not a one of them was glad to be working with Victor Creed, also known as Sabretooth. The fact that he wore a special collar device that would shock him into unconsciousness and pump his body full of sedative drugs if he tried anything devious was of no consolation to them.

Sabretooth was a former member of the Weapon X program, a government funded venture that turned him and several other mutants into formidable killing machines to do their dirty work. It was in this program that he met Wolverine, his mortal enemy.

They were very similar, Sabretooth and Wolverine. Both possessed a mutant healing ability and hyper senses. Both had the indestructible metal adamantium grafted to every bone in their bodies by the Weapon X scientists. While on the exterior they were similar, they couldn't be more dissimilar. Sabretooth was a killer, a vicious, relentless slaughterer. He'd embraced the beast within himself. Sabretooth had been involved in many ventures in his life, all extremely violent in nature. And now he was back in the armed forces, working against his will in a black ops team for the United States government.

According to Sabretooth's briefing his current mission was extremely classified. Apparently a ship of extraterrestrial origin had crash-landed in the middle of a huge forest and this team was to secure the crash site and wait for further instructions. Sabretooth was sure the government knew more than they told the team. His briefing had included extra instructions not included in the three other men's briefings. "Should any member of your team be infected with a foreign contagion, they must be terminated. If possible, retrieve an alien specimen." Sabretooth knew his collar device monitored his life-signs, and he was sure that if he was infected with whatever this contagion was the men monitoring him in some room in Washington would push a button and pump him full of deadly poison so quickly that his healing factor wouldn't be able to keep up. The reason his orders contained these extra instructions was also obvious: If something were to go wrong, Sabretooth would almost certainly not be the first to die, if at all. He'd come out of fights that no regular person would have survived under any circumstances. Sabretooth was also the only member of the team who would have no problem killing the other members.

As the helicopter drew near to Landscape, Sabretooth suddenly leaned forward and stared out of the chopper. He leaned back and grinned. Sharply pointed teeth punctuated the malicious grin.

"What're you so happy about?" Jenkins, one of the soldiers across from Sabretooth, inquired cautiously. Jenkins was the leader of the operation, or so he thought. Sabretooth gazed back down at the forest. They were right on top of the down ship now. It was half-buried in the ground, jutting up past the tallest trees. Black smoke pumped out of the craft and several surrounding trees were burning. He could smell dead people, dead aliens, and things he couldn't wait to clash with. And yet, there was that old familiar scent. Wolverine.

Sabretooth turned his hairy head to Jenkins. "Just excited, sir." His voice was animalistic, a growl just barely tamed. He locked eyes with Jenkins and grinned widely. He must have looked might fierce to his commanding officer. "I been killin' humans so long I'm wonderin' what it'll be like to tear up some extra terrestrials."

Jenkins nodded slowly. "Don't you want a weapon, Creed?"

Sabretooth could tell that Jenkins thought he was crazy. Hell, Jenkins was probably right. "My weapons are right here, sir." He held up his clawed hands and bared his wolf-like teeth. "You play with your toys." He motioned toward the M16 that Jenkins clutched. "I'll play with mine."

Jenkins snorted. "Mutants." He glanced at the other two soldiers to his left and right. They smiled weakly and avoided Sabretooth's gaze.

Barnett, who sat to Jenkins' left, was a thickly built black man. A gristly beard covered his face. Bored eyes glanced lazily to and fro. Barnett didn't talk much. When Sabretooth first met Barnett, he thought he was mute or something. Then, when Jenkins was nowhere to be seen, Barnett had turned to Sabretooth and said, "Fuckin' bastard." He had Sabretooth's respect.

Lyle sat to Jenkins' right. He was a full head shorter than Jenkins, who wasn't very tall in the first place. Sabretooth had nicknamed him Runt. Apparently Runt was good for something. He was in a Special Forces team, after all. Sabretooth suspected he was some kind of genius. The night before the current mission, when Sabretooth, Runt, Jenkins, and Barnett were eating dinner, Runt had attempted to start a conversation. "Did you guys know that the billionth digit of Pi is nine?" He had blurted to break the silence.

The pilot's voice came over the earpiece in Sabretooth's ear. "I'm bringing her down fifty meters from the crash site. Radio for extraction when the mission is complete." The helicopter began its descent very suddenly, causing the three soldiers to grab what they could to support themselves. Sabretooth laughed gruffly and howled like a wolf about to give chase to his prey. The killing would soon begin.


	5. Chapter 5

Wolverine glanced around, making sure there were no more threats. When he was sure there wasn't another one of these things nearby, he retracted his claws and knelt down at the alien's body.

The helicopter was still approaching. It would be at the crash site in mere minutes. 

It looked like a giant lizard shaped to be a man. That was the only way Wolverine could describe it. The way the skin felt, the patterns on it, all looked reptilian. Some kind of netting covered its chest, but it was sliced to ribbons thanks to Wolverine. A utility belt was strapped to the waist. Strange weapons and devices were hung there.

Wolverine noticed something attatched to the monsters wrist. He poked at it and a panel snapped open. He snapped it back shut. It probably wasn't smart to tinker with alien technology. He didn't want to do anything stupid.

The mask was still attatched to its face. "Peek-a-boo." Wolverine muttered. He wrapped his fingers around the edges of the mask and gave it a tug. It didn't budge. Not even a little. Was the damn thing super-glued or something? At closer inspection Wolverine noticed some tubing coming out of the edges of the mask. Disregarding the fact that he probably shouldn't tinker with alien technology, Wolverine slid one claw out of his left fist and sliced the tubing. Gas hissed out of it. He managed to pry the mask loose. The face beneath looked like something out of a nightmare. 

Covering its head were long black dreadlocks, if you could call them that. They seemed to be tied together with golden rings. An elongated forehead sloped down to two sunken yellow eyes, which were staring into nothing. It had no visible nose. It's mouth was the strangest part of it. Four mandibles hung limp around a oval-shaped mouth. 

The alien looked strong. The sucker was made of pure muscle, it seemed like. Built to kill, like Wolverine. Wolverine stood up, the mask still in his hands. He looked down at the mask, wondering what it could be for. Was it built for intimidation, for life-support, or both? What were these aliens where for? What happened to their ship? 

He had a lot of questions. Before he could ponder any longer, a twig snapped behind him. Wolverine dropped the mask, turned around, and - SNIKT! - popped his claws. 

"Whoa! Holy shit!" It was a man. He looked disheveled and confused. He was pudgy, fat even. His clothes were torn and tattered. Scratches covered his face, as if something had grabbed him there.

"Who the hell are you?" Wolverine demanded. He stepped forward.

"Drake, Drake! Christ, what's going on?" He stumbled about and rubbed his chest. "I need some Tums." Drake glanced up. "Is that a helicopter?"

Wolverine remembered smelling four campers in the woods just a few hours ago. This must have been one of them.

The black chopper was descending. It hovered about fifteen feet above ground and four men holding onto jump cables slid to the ground. Three of them were armed to the teeth. The fourth stood a full head and shoulders above the rest. He had no guns, no knives. Sabretooth disconnected from his cable and grinned at Wolverine.

"Fancy meetin you here, friend." 


	6. Chapter 6

Wolverine frowned. What was Sabretooth doing here? What was he doing working with a government team? It was probably against his will. Wolverine noticed a metal collar wrapped around Sabretooth's throat. A-ha. That was how the government had persuaded him to work for them. Wolverine had seen collars like it in the past. A press of a remote button from anywhere on earth could send sedatives, electric shocks, and even deadly poison into the wearer. Wolverine wasn't sure how the collar had gotten on Sabretooth, but he was sure that several men had probably died attempting it.

The three soldiers with Sabretooth raised their rifles. They wore all black, no identifying marks were on their uniforms. It was a shadow team. Officially, they didn't exist.

"Don't move. Identify yourselves." One of the soldiers stepped forward and pointed his gun at Wolverine. Wolverine figured him to be the team leader. The other two soldiers surveyed the crash site, marveling at the alien craft and the dead extra terrestrial. 

Drake, the pudgy camper, had his arms held straight up in the air. Sweat poured from his armpits and face. He looked pale. Wolverine smelled something strange about him.

"My name is Drake Sanders! Don't kill me, please! I have kids, a wife, a dog named Skipper and - "

"Shut up, meat!" Sabretooth barked. "What were you doing out here?"

The soldier who ha questioned Wolverine and Drake's identities turned to Sabretooth. He had to look up to meet the feral mutant's gaze. "I lead this operation. I ask the questions. You shut your goddamn mouth."

Wolverine's jaw almost dropped. Was this man asking to be ripped apart and disembowled? Then he remembered the collar. The commanding officer wasn't afraid of Sabretooth because he knew that if the mutant tried anything, he'd be killed within seconds. 

Wolverine sensed tension between the CO and Sabretooth. Maybe that could be exploited.

Sabretooth clenched his teeth. "Whatever you say, Jenkins."

"You gonna let him talk to you like that, Creed?" Wolverine asked.

Sabretooth scowled. "For now."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Creed." Jenkins said.

Drake was clutching his chest. His red face was contorted into a painful grimace. "Oh, God!" He moaned. The camper fell to his knees, then dropped onto his back. Jenkins called the other two soldiers over. Their names were Barnett and Lyle. They trained their guns on Drake. 

Sabretooth picked at his teeth with one of his sharp claws, totally disinterested. "I don't remember eating chicken..." He muttered to himself. 

Convulsions racked the camper. Veins bulged in his forehead. He looked ready to explode. Wolverine couldn't see the whites of his eyes. All the blood vessels had burst, flooding his eyes with red. 

"My chest!" Drake managed to croak out.

Barnett knelt down at ripped open Drake's shirt, exposing his hairy chest and belly. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

Jenkins said, "What the hell is happening to him, Barnett? You're the doctor!"

"Cardiac arrest, maybe. Heart attack. I don't know. Holy God!" The three soldiers leapt back as a huge bulge stretched from just beneath Drake's sternum. Something was inside of him and it wanted out. Drake screamed and began foaming at the mouth. His eyes rolled back.

Wolverine focused his thoughts. He needed to contact the Professor. He would know what to do. Wolverine shut his eyes and fired off a thought, hoping Xavier would somehow pick it up. 

Drake's bely bulged again. The flesh tore open. A small, oblong creature rocketed out of him. Two sets of arms were tucked close to its body. A sort of crest extended from its head. It reminded Wolverine of a crown for some reason. It was covered in blood and gore. Lyle gasped and opened fire on the beast. It screamed, gnashed its needle-sharp teeth and skittered into the woods. Lyle's bullets ripped into Drake. If the alien creature hadn't killed him while coming out, the bullets sure had. 

"What the fuck?" Jenkins looked about ready to puke. 

"Hail Mary, full of grace..." Lyle fingered an imaginary rosary.

Barnett was silent. His eyes did all the talking. They were wide open, gaping at the hole in Drake's belly. His lips moved silently, maybe trying to make sense of the impossible thing he had just witnessed. 

Wolverine backed away shaking his head. He didn't know what was going on, but he did know one thing. People were going to die.

Sabretooth grunted. He was leaning against what appeared to be the only standing tree within a dozen meters. "There's somethin' you don't see everyday." He spat on the ground. 


	7. Chapter 7

Lyle knelt down at the dead man's body. He had pretended to be surprised at the ship's crash and the dead Yautja.

"Amazing...What I want to know is how the hell that thing got inside him." He glanced at the others. No one suspected him. Why should they? He was barely five foot five, geeky, and socially inept. What could he possible have to hide? Those fools. He'd dealt with people like them since childhood. The jocks, the popular kids, they all made fun of him. Barnett and Jenkins weren't any different from the assholes that had tormented Lyle when he was in high school. Even though Barnett didn't say much, Lyle knew he was thinking it. He was thinking about how much of a bitch Lyle was. That's what they all called him in school. Momma's bitch. Little bitch. Barnett would get what was coming to him. So would Jenkins. Jenkins, the big shot commander. Lyle had seen turds that could better lead a squad. Jenkins was a pretty boy with a bad attitude that was going to his ass killed. 

"I don't give a damn how it got in there. Our orders are to secure the site and wait for back up." Jenkins said pompously. The idiot probably didn't even know what pompous meant. 

Lyle gritted his teeth and forced a smile as he stood up. "Yes, sir." He glanced at Barnett and could have sworn the bastard was staring at him and looked away just as Lyle looked at him. Bastard. He was probably laughing inside.

"Lyle, Barnett, set up flares at the forest's edge to keep curious animals out of our way. Creed, you and me are going to check out the ship. And you," Jenkins said to the burly man with wild hair, "you sit your ass down and don't move." Always barking orders. 

As everyone set out to do their duties, Lyle approached Jenkins. "Sir, don't you think I should inspect the craft? I mean, I am the science and tech guy." 

Jenkins looked like he was considering it. "You really want to go in there with Creed?" 

Lyle looked over at the large, muscular, hairy mutant. Creed licked his lips and laughed when Lyle shuddered. Lyle turned back to Jenkins. "Sir, this is the first alien craft to ever land in the United States. It travelled millions of light years through space to come here, for whatever reason. We are talking about first contact with an alien race. I would go in there with Charles Manson."

Lyle was outdoing himself. This wasn't the first alien craft to land in America. The Yautja had been coming here for millenia. Recently they had initiated peaceful contact with the United States government. At least, a certain group of Yautja had. It was quite fascinating to learn their culture and history. Of course, the Yautja couldn't speak English. Lyle and his fellow scientists had commissioned mutant psychics to communicate with them. It seemed to be the only way of intelligent exchange of information. Lyle wasn't sure why the Yautja had decided to interact with humans after millenia of hunting them for sport. Perhaps they had some hidden agenda. 

In any case, the Hunters had scheduled a meeting to exchange technology for certain Earth animals. Tigers, Gorillas, et cetera. Lyle still understand why. They could simply take what they wanted and the humans would never know. He wasn't about to decline weaponery and technology that was ages beyond anything humans had ever dreamed of. The meet was supposed to happen today. Something caused the Yautja ship to crash and now the government was panicking. Would the aliens take this as an act of agression, even though the humans had not caused the wreck? There was much they didn't know about the Yautja and how they thought. There was also fear of some kind of infection that the Yautja had never fully elaborated on.

It seemed that the infection was whatever the hell had busted out of the tubby man's chest. Oh well. How dangerous could it be? 

He was quite pleased with his deceptive skills.

Jenkins pointed at the dead Yautja. "And the first contact has gone so well thus far. Fine. I'll stay out here and watch our new friend." He motioned to the burly man.

It was surprising that the man had been able to kill the Yautja warrior so easily. From the way it was eviscerated, Lyle figured that the guy must have had some kind of blade on him. Perhaps the Yautja was a youngling, not yet trained for battle. The man was lucky to have bested it. 

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir."

Creed appeared next to Lyle. The mutant creeped Lyle out. "Looks like we're partners, Runt. Come on, let's go poke around in the space ship."

"Right." Lyle set off toward the ship. Creed followed.

"And don't kill Lyle, for Chrissake!" Jenkins called to Creed. 


End file.
